Young Dogs
by Swordy Rides Again
Summary: As a teenager, Dee finds himself reevaluating his sexuality when an enigmatic young man offers to show him the ways of the flesh. Set in the canon timeline, pre volume 1.
1. Teenage Kicks

**Author's note: Time to kick off a new story! 'Young Dogs' takes place within the canon timeline and is set during Dee's teenage years. The story chronicles how a chance meeting leads to Dee re-evaluating his sexuality. **

**Reviews are always very welcome, especially now when I'm starting to think that pulling out my own teeth may be easier than setting words to paper (or Word doc). I could do with a little love right about now… **

**Disclaimer: I don't own FAKE or its characters. Sanami Matoh has that honour. I just like to play with them for a while.**

**PLEASE NOTE: Due to the nature of this story, some scenes will be heavily edited to comply with this site's rules. If you want it full and uncut you can find it over at mediaminer under 'Swordy'.**

**Young Dogs**

Chapter 1 – Teenage Kicks

The burning in his muscles intensified, but he had no intention of stopping while the pounding of running feet remained behind him. Adrenaline fuelled his escape and the exhilaration made him want to laugh out loud. Just up ahead his friend charged on, his untidy thatch of blond hair bobbing up and down like the bristles of a brush. A high wall was approaching and the teenager prepared himself to leap, following his fellow escapee and hopefully putting some distance between them and their angry pursuer.

He scrambled over the barrier with ease – youth and agility on his side. The man in hot pursuit could not say the same and the chase ended abruptly with chased and chaser on opposite sides of a high perimeter wall. Secure in the knowledge that they were no longer being followed, the two boys slowed to a leisurely jog, grinning at each other with an enthusiasm borne of triumph.

"That's gotta be the closest he's gotten yet!" the dark haired teenager chuckled, slightly out of breath.

His companion nodded enthusiastically as he reached into his jacket for the spoils of their adventure. "Want one?"

Slowing to a walk, Dee held his hand out to receive a packet of cigarettes, slightly squashed from the high paced escape. He shook one out of the carton and lit it.

"Reckon he'll tell the penguin?"

Dee shrugged as they sauntered along. "Probably, but I'm already in the shit with her so it don't matter."

Arnon grinned. "You realise if it was anyone else she'd have kicked them out long ago? I dunno what you've got, buddy, but you should bottle it!"

"Charisma, my friend, charisma."

"Even so, you wanna take it easy, Dee. You got a good thing going on with that nun."

Dee laughed, but he knew Arnon was right. The elderly nun had defended him more times than he cared to remember and despite his bravado, he hated hurting her, which invariably happened when she learnt of his numerous misdemeanours. He'd entertain the younger kids, help them with their homework – that would hopefully go someway to right this most recent wrong.

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"DEE!! I know you're up there!"

Dee winced. For a tiny woman she sure had a powerful set of lungs. Now was the time to get in a few prayers of forgiveness before she reached his attic room, indeed her footsteps were already on the rickety wooden ladder.

"Dee!" The hatch in the floor lifted and the familiar sight of a crinkled face, framed by a nun's habit appeared in the gap. The lines on her face were deepened by a sharp frown. "I've just had a call from Mr. Chalmers at the store. He says you were in yesterday."

Dee feigned a look of innocence. "Are you sure it was me?"

The nun snorted as she climbed the last few steps into the attic. "Unfortunately for you, you're easily recognisable. He says you were stealing. Is it true?"

With no excuse prepared, he wilted under her iron-hard gaze. "It was only one packet of cigarettes," he said feebly.

"Oh, Dee. How many times do we have to go through this?"

"I know, I'm sorry-"

"I can't keep bailing you out. Do you know how long I was on the phone pleading with him not to go to the police? Fortunately he said he wouldn't, but he made it categorically clear that this is the last time he's going to turn a blind eye."

"Thanks, mother-"

She held her hand up to stop him. "I don't want your thanks. I want your solemn word that this is absolutely the last time that this happens."

"I promise you that you'll get no more phone calls about me – ow!" He rubbed his head ruefully where she had smacked him. "What was that for?"

The nun smiled, her eyes twinkling. "I'm sure you think I'm senile. I want you to promise me that you'll stop _shop lifting_, not that I'll stop hearing about when you've been caught."

He held his hands up in defeat. "Okay, okay. I promise you I'll stop shop lifting. I only stole because I'd given my money to the younger kids so they could get some candy."

The nun's already wrinkled face crinkled further as she smiled. That was just like Dee to take care of the younger children at the orphanage. "Well, as noble as your intentions were, there's still the small matter of your punishment."

"Punishment?" Dee repeated, with a groan. Knowing the nun, it'd probably be a tedious, dirty and back-breaking cleaning job in the church. "Surely being whacked around the head is punishment enough?"

The nun laughed out loud as she headed back to the hatch. "Oh, my son. Surely you know me better than that."

"That's what I was worried about," Dee muttered into his pillow.

True to her word, Penguin had lined him up with a _doozy_ of a punishment. Perhaps the only saving grace was that Arnon, Barry and Tommy had also been roped into hard labour – Penguin style. Just as they thought they were finally done with the mammoth list of tasks she'd found them to do around the orphanage, she sprung a new one on them.

"Here," she handed Dee a piece of paper with an address written on it.

The boys looked warily at each other.

"The new owner needs help moving in. Most of it's stuff he's had in storage, which he now wants putting in the attic. I said you'd be round at nine o'clock prompt tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!" Dee looked horrified. "But tomorrow's Saturday! Tell me you're…"

He didn't dare finish the sentence. The glare told him Penguin most definitely was not joking.

"Nine o'clock," she reiterated firmly, before she turned on her heel and moved away at a surprising speed for someone of her age and physical condition.

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Not that he would ever have admitted it, but Dee felt somewhat intimidated as the four of them stood on the sidewalk outside the house they had been told to come to. He felt at home on the streets of his neighbourhood, having only ever lived at the orphanage. It was situated in an undesirable part of town – ironic since undesired seemed to fit him and the circumstances of his birth so well. He'd seen people who'd ended up in his neighbourhood by accident. 'The wrong part of town' they'd tell friends later on when they were safely ensconced in their comfortable little lives, sharing their distain for what they'd experienced. He could see their friends, shaking their heads in disbelief, saying things like 'wow, isn't that awful? You were lucky you didn't get mugged or _worse_.'

He'd seen them grip their purses a little tighter when they saw him, their eyes hurriedly looking away, as if that one action would keep them safe. Now the tables were turned. Everything about this street screamed class, elegance, luxury – bywords that had no place in his existence, and frankly, it scared the hell out of him. Penguin must have been crazy.

"You think they're gonna want _us_ in their house?" Barry said dubiously, breaking the silence and finally getting the other teenagers to tear their eyes away from the mansion. Clearly he was on the same wavelength.

"'Bout as much as they want woodworm," Dee replied with a snort.

"Are you sure this is the right house?" Arnon asked, despite being the one holding the piece of paper with the address on it.

Dee nodded. "Penguin was very clear about it. Apparently the guy that owns this place made a very generous contribution to the orphanage's upkeep. They go way back or something."

"Speaking of which," Barry said, inclining his head towards the front door that was starting to open. A face appeared bearing a smile of welcome. The man could be no one but the owner of the house. Like his abode, he too reeked of wealth. His clothes were obviously designer, and even at a distance it was apparent that his skin, despite the weathering of time, was well cared for. His hair had been dark once, but the silvering around the temples added a distinguished air that reminded Dee of a judge, or even a politician.

Brilliant, Dee thought. Dee Laytner, petty thief and Judge Judy.

"You must be the boys Mother Maria sent. Please, come on in." Dee glanced to his left and concluded his friends must be feeling similarly intimidated. Arnon was scuffing his sneaker in some non-existent dirt as Barry and Tommy fidgeted like children in a lineup to find out who had thrown eggs at the school room window. He had to elbow Barry in the ribs to get them moving.

"Which one of you is Dee?"

The question surprised the dark haired young man. His answer was hesitant. "I am, Sir."

"It's James and it's good to meet you. I've heard so much about you from Maria."

Dee was certain he could hear sniggering somewhere behind him. Penguin couldn't have told him all that much, unless she'd included all the terrible things he'd done over the years and he couldn't really see the old nun shouting about that.

"Well, mother said you needed some boxes moving?"

James smiled as he closed the door behind them. "Indeed I do. I guess I didn't realise how much stuff I had. Unfortunately we put most of it in one of the rooms on this floor, but now it all needs going up in the attic."

Their eyes instinctively went to the imposing staircase spiralling upwards. Dee groaned internally, cursing his twenty a day habit. His face however reflected the knowledge that Penguin was counting on him to repay her for saving his ass. "Well, if you show us where your stuff is and where you want it to go, we'll get started, Sir."

James smiled with genuine gratitude as he headed to the stairs. "Okay, let me show you the attic first."

He started to ascend, the boys obediently following behind. Their sneakers squeaked on the alabaster marble, their hands reluctant to mark the highly polished gold handrail that followed the spiral staircase like a perfectly coiled serpent. They stopped suddenly, realising someone was else was above them as James started to speak. They were even more surprised when they realised that he was speaking French to the young man now resting against the railing of the first floor landing.

There was no smile as the young man listened. He nodded in comprehension then his dark eyes flicked to Dee. Dee couldn't help but notice that his gaze didn't stray any further. He could only be in his early twenties, but an air of confidence surrounded him that gave him a haughty, slightly aristocratic look. Dee bristled. Who the hell did he think he was? The young man turned and went into one of the rooms, closing the door behind him.

"So if you'll take them up here…"

Dee realised James was still talking to him. He snapped out of his thoughts and continued to ascend the stairs after the other man, his friends dutifully following. They were shown how to access the attic and then taken back down to the ground floor where the boxes were. Dee didn't bother to count them – there were a lot and they all looked damned heavy.

The soundtrack of the morning was muted grumbling for several hours – until James came along and pushed a generous amount of dollar bills into Dee's hand to buy them all lunch. Enlivened by the sight of money, Barry talked ten to the dozen as they headed back into their territory for a decent meal.

"I swear that guy's gotta have more money than Donald Trump! Did you _see_ those vases and paintings and stuff?"

Tommy snorted. "What the hell do you know about art, dumb ass?"

"I know your mug's no oil painting."

A half-hearted scuffle followed. Dee glanced at his watch. "Come on, ladies. We said we wouldn't be long."

"Why you so twitchy?" Arnon asked as he fell into stride beside the tallest boy.

Dee shrugged. "I'm just trying to get Penguin off my back."

"So it's not because you feel guilty for making the old girl worry about you?"

The denial stuck in his throat. They all knew how he felt about Penguin, so protesting otherwise was pointless. It didn't stop him glaring all the same. Arnon sensed the sudden shift in mood.

"So, what do you reckon's the deal with that young French dude?"

The question brought the haughty face swimming back into Dee's mind. His irritation at the way he'd been looked at came too.

"Dunno. He looked pretty far up his own ass."

"I don't mean that. I meant him and the older guy. Something weird's going on there, if you ask me."

"Weird how?"

Arnon rolled his eyes as the others caught up with them and their conversation. "Well they ain't father and son, put it like that."

Barry chuckled. "You're talkin' about that queer boy back there?"

"See? At least art critic here's got eyes," Arnon said triumphantly. "Like I said, they weren't father and son."

"Whatever," Dee replied, waving off their banter. "Let's go eat."

With full stomachs they returned to their duties. The day had gotten surprisingly warm, and they were glad when the final box was in the attic and they could leave. James appeared to show them out, his young companion now nowhere to be seen. He gave them ten bucks each – unnecessary since they were there as a punishment - and would not hear of them refusing it. The boys left happy and Penguin seemed satisfied that they had done enough to make amends.

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Months passed and any memories about that day were quickly swallowed up by later events. Death very rarely gave prior warning when it was coming to town, and its arrival that year was nothing short of unexpected. Dee had known Arnon was in some kind of trouble; the normally easygoing boy had become uptight and secretive - snappy and defensive when questioned. They'd all tried to help, but Arnon had gone beyond their reach and soon that became a permanent arrangement. His death was bad, but things worsened with the discovery of Jess's involvement in the whole sorry affair. Unbeknown to him, a chain of events had been set in motion that would culminate in Jess's death – and a new found direction to his previously aimless life.

It was early evening when Penguin requested permission to come into his room. Since he had become the orphanage's longest staying resident, the nun had allowed him to use the attic as his own space. She knew it was favouritism – but Dee was an easy boy to favour and not only for his difficult start and repeated disappointments following failed adoptions. She saw something within him – something that helped her see past his indiscretions and flirtations with petty crime. She'd lost count of the number of times she'd told his detractors that she knew he'd make her proud one day. It hadn't quite happened yet, but she was a patient woman.

"Dee?"

He looked surprised to see her. His face did the contortion of one quickly wracking his brains to determine if he'd done anything he'd be in trouble for, then relaxed.

"What's up?"

The nun shook her head as she carefully climbed through the hatch. She knew exactly what he'd just mentally done and wondered when he'd ever behave himself long enough for that reflex action to die.

"I've just had a call from James Summers. Do you remember him? You helped him move some of his possessions when he moved into his new house. He's asked that you go around there when you have some free time."

"More stuff to move?" he replied incredulously, the memory of his aching back surfacing with surprising clarity.

"I don't think so. All he said was that he wanted you to go round."

"Me? As in me on my own?"

She nodded. He noted mild concern in her eyes, possibly wondering if he done something he now needed to answer for. He didn't blame her for that – he'd given her enough reason to fret about him and what he was up to every moment he was out of her sight.

"I didn't do anything, Penguin, I swear."

Times like this, he knew his life had backfired on him. He loved the old girl more than life itself and it crushed him when she doubted his honesty. His faith was restored when she smiled, the expression touching her eyes as well as her mouth.

"I know you didn't, Dee. Unfortunately for you, your eyes tell me everything." She reached up and tenderly stroked his face. "I don't know what James wants, but it won't be anything bad, I'm sure."

TBC…


	2. Desire to Please

**Author's note – Many thanks for the reviews, guys! I hope this little story will continue to keep you entertained - Swordy**

**Young Dogs**

Chapter 2 – Desire to Please

Dee had long since learnt that Penguin had the power to make anything seem possible, but as he stood outside James Summers' property, this time alone, he grew certain that he'd been summoned back because he was in trouble. His mind projected a scenario where the residents of the house would have mislaid something precious and the most obvious conclusion would be that its disappearance would have something to do with the young men that had been there several months ago. The others hadn't taken anything – he'd have known about it - and besides, they knew they all owed it to Penguin for keeping them out of serious trouble.

"Thank you for coming," James Summers said as he showed the bewildered teen into his sitting room. Dee hadn't been in this room on his first visit and his response was delayed by a wide-eyed surveying of the furnishings. Expensive no doubt, but he wasn't sure any of the seating actually looked comfortable. He chose a stiff, high backed chair when James gestured to him to have a seat and immediately regretted it. He felt awkward and formal, despite James' smile of welcome.

"Is something wrong? We didn't break anything, did we? We were really careful…"

"Oh no, everything's fine." The older man looked troubled, his hand going to his head. "I'm sorry to have worried you, Dee. I should have explained, but, well, I wasn't sure if you'd have come."

Dee couldn't be sure what his expression was doing in response to that statement, but he was fairly certain he wasn't going to like what was coming next. Why else wouldn't he have said what he needed to say over the phone? "Okay… what is it?"

James seemed to be relieved that he hadn't got up and left… yet. "I have a favour to ask you. It's about my companion. You met him last time you were here?"

Dee's frown indicated that he wasn't sure whether he had.

"He's French." James smiled. "It probably didn't escape your notice that he's a lot younger than me."

The connection was instant and Dee found himself picturing the sullen Frenchman, hands dug deep into low slung jeans, scowling at the young men on his stairs.

"I saw him, but we didn't speak," Dee said, realising he hadn't replied.

"And you wouldn't – Maigret doesn't speak much English."

"Maigret?"

"Philippe Maigret, but he doesn't like Philippe." The expression on the man's face told Dee that Arnon had been right – even the ambiguous term 'companion' couldn't hide the fact that James Summers had a young, attractive lover.

"He didn't look like he was very pleased to see us that day," Dee observed, not sure what else he should say.

"Not at all. Maigret is a shy young man… which brings me to the reason I've asked you here." He looked straight at Dee, his hands clasping with nervousness. "Maigret doesn't know many people here, especially people his own age. After he saw you here, he asked if I would invite you back."

It was impossible not to hide his shock. "He wants us to be _friends_?"

There was something in James' expression that Dee couldn't make out, but the man nodded. "I know it's an unusual thing to ask, but… well, I worry that he's lonely."

_And that he'll leave you_, Dee thought. But the sentiment was genuine and he found himself feeling sorry for the older man. Penguin said his generous nature was a gift, but especially at times like this, Dee knew it was a curse. What the hell was in this for him?

"Uh… sure, but I'm not sure how easy it'll be when he doesn't speak English."

"He understands more than he speaks."

"Do you think we have anything in common?" Dee asked, dubious. "I appreciate you want to try and help him make friends, but there's no guarantee we'll get on."

"I know," James replied, "but like I said, he suggested I call you up so…" He trailed off, masking whatever he was going to say with a reassuring smile. "If you want to go anywhere, I'll of course make sure you have enough money."

Dee was about to politely protest when the sound of the front door opening stole both their attentions. Quiet footsteps announced the arrival of the subject of their conversation. He entered the room, glancing at Dee before he turned to James, questioningly.

Dee could only watch, frustratingly out of the loop, as James presumably explained his presence to his lover in French. Despite James' earlier announcement that Maigret himself had asked for Dee to be invited back, the young man looked distinctly unimpressed. He could only watch as the Frenchman spoke quickly, his dark eyes flicking between his lover and Dee. When James spoke again, it was to their guest.

"Maigret is wondering if you'd like to go and see Reservoir Dogs with him? There's a showing that starts in half an hour." James smiled sheepishly. "He's wanted to see it ever since it was released, but it's not exactly my cup of tea, if you know what I mean."

He did. With his sensible sweaters and beige slacks, James Summers didn't look like an obvious choice to see the infamous movie, released earlier that week. Dee on the other hand had already discussed with his equally excited friends how they could get to see the movie when none of them had the money for the tickets.

"Unless of course you don't want to see it either?"

"What? No, I'd love to see it!" He knew his mouth had outpaced his brain, but logic told him it couldn't be that bad. He'd hardly have to talk to Maigret if they went to see a movie and yet he'd have shown willing as far as James's request was concerned. Plus there was a small part of him that was curious as to why Maigret had chosen him over the others to be 'friends' with.

"That's great." James communicated as much to Maigret who nodded and turned his attention to Dee. Eager to be out of the uncomfortable chair, Dee made for the door. Maigret however came further into the room and began a hushed conversation with his lover. Feeling intrusive, Dee pretended to look elsewhere while James opened his wallet and handed over some notes. Maigret however seemed to have no compunction about taking the older man's money and soon they were on their way.

"So… you like going to the movies?" It was a lame question but Dee figured a three block silence was long enough. The young man walking next to him looked quizzical for a moment, the thick New York accent smothering the quickly spoken words.

"Oui. J'aime aller au cinema." He met Dee's confused expression. "Yes. I… I like movies."

"Cool," he replied, relieved to see the movie theatre in sight.

The movie made up for the awkward, stilted conversation that followed when they grabbed a bite to eat on the way back. Dee found that Maigret did indeed understand much more English than he'd initially thought if he just chose his words carefully and didn't speak at his usual break-neck speed. He even managed to make the serious young man smile on a couple of occasions.

He found out that, despite his youthful appearance, Maigret was in fact in his mid twenties and that he had met James Summers while the other man was in France on a business trip two years ago. The young Frenchman had readily agreed when the older man had invited him to come and live with him in America, but he admitted to feeling lonely – a likely outcome of discovering that the grass was not in fact greener in the land of the free.

Dee told him about his desire to become a cop. He wasn't sure whether Maigret hadn't quite understood or whether he was teasing him when his companion started to laugh. The sound caught the attention of a couple of girls sitting nearby who promptly proceeded to whisper and nudge each other. It was with new eyes that Dee realised he was looking at an extremely attractive young man.

Subtly, he watched as Maigret put a cigarette between his lips and held it there. As the young man looked down to light the smoke, Dee found himself staring at the long eyelashes that curved upwards, the view partially obscured by the strands of thick chestnut hair that fell across his face. A mild look of irritation crossed Maigret's features as he swept the offending locks away from his eyes, then looked up at Dee to offer him the lighter. Dee accepted it, relieved to be given a distraction from the disturbing notion that he had just observed the minutiae of his companion's physical appearance in a way he had never known himself to do before.

They left the diner shortly afterwards. He walked Maigret back to the house, not sure how well the Frenchman knew the area yet, but certain that Penguin's friend and benefactor would not appreciate him leaving his lover to the mean streets – not that they were particularly mean in an area where even tiny apartments could push the million dollar mark.

They stopped on the sidewalk outside the house where a light was burning in one of the upstairs windows. "Je voudrais faire ceci encore," Maigret said quickly, then, realising he had to translate, frowned as his mind went to form the words.

"You wanna do this again?" Dee asked, unaware that he had understood.

Maigret smiled, a genuine expression of warmth lifting his handsome features. "I would like that."

"Okay, call me." When Maigret cocked his head to one side, he gestured putting a phone to his ear. "James knows my number."

Maigret nodded his understanding before he jogged up the steps and disappeared into the house.

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Dee's determination to knuckle down and gain entrance to the police academy meant that he no longer saw Barry and Tommy with the same regularity. They were still good friends though, hence their surprise to discover that he had been to see Reservoir Dogs without them.

"Oh yeah? Who'd you go with?" Tommy asked the inevitable question.

Dee suddenly wished that he'd just kept his mouth shut. How would he explain how his ticket had been paid for by a young Frenchman that, as far as they were concerned, they had met once, and only briefly, some months ago? How then would he explain the two other occasions recently when he had accepted Maigret's invitation – indeed he was due to see him again that very evening. His hesitation allowed his friends to jump to their own conclusions – lucky really, given the awkward, question-provoking truth.

"Ah, it was a girl," Barry chuckled, elbowing Tommy in the ribs.

"You let her pay?" Tommy asked in disbelief.

"Shut up," Dee growled, somewhat relieved that he hadn't had to explain himself. "I gotta go. Penguin'll be on my ass if I don't get some study done." He swung himself off the wall and started to walk away, the playful heckles of his friends following him down the street like a stray cat.

He did do some study before changing and heading out. He walked the increasingly familiar journey, his mind fixed only on the reading he'd just done. Studying wasn't a taste he'd yet acquired, but his determination to do right by both Jess and Penguin was enough to keep the books open and the pen scribing.

He reached the house and rang the doorbell. The light that went on behind the door alerted him to someone approaching. He was surprised when Maigret himself answered the door – normally he let James do it, worried that he would have to communicate with a stranger. His smile said he had been waiting.

"Come in."

Dee closed the door behind him and followed the young man through the house into the main living room. "So what d'you fancy doing tonight? I don't know what movies are on…"

"We can stay here," Maigret replied, gesturing to the stack of rental DVDs on the floor in front of the large TV screen.

"Where's James?"

"London."

Maigret didn't elaborate but undoubtedly he was away on business. He studied Maigret properly and realised that he was barefoot and dressed casually – indicating that he'd never had any intention of going out. If Dee was disappointed, it wasn't to last.

"For you and me," Maigret said with a smile, pointing at the large stash of beer piled up beside the couch. Dee grinned, his eyes reckoning up about twenty four cans.

"Cool. Staying in sounds pretty good."

They watched the first movie while getting steadily more drunk. The second movie was a bad choice, but the beer had kicked in and the plot was long forgotten as they sat, grinning stupidly at no one in particular.

A loud bang on the movie told Dee that he'd drifted off – for how long he couldn't be sure. His eyes readjusted to the dim lighting as his other senses shook off sleep. He looked down to see a hand that wasn't his own stroking along his thigh.

"Wha… the hell?"

"It's okay," Maigret reassured, seeing his frown. In the darkness, Dee couldn't be sure but he thought Maigret was smiling.

His alcohol-clouded brain told him there was something wrong with this picture, but he couldn't for the life of him fathom what that was. The sensations were pleasant and as he studied Maigret his mind reminded him that he had thought the Frenchman attractive the first time they'd spent time together. Too late he realised Maigret was looking back, dark eyes studying his face before the young man leaned over and brought their lips together.

He'd never thought about what another man's lips would taste like, but he was surprised to find them soft and – strangest of all – desirable. He found himself kissing back, first tentatively, then aggressively as hands became involved, fingers weaving into hair. He was similarly receptive when Maigret shoved him back onto the couch and straddled him. The frenzied kissing began afresh, lips and tongues, breathing laboured. He was losing himself willingly and it was only when he felt fingers tugging urgently at his belt and flies did he regain his sensibilities, his hands coming to Maigret's shoulders, holding the other back.

"Stop, _stop!_" he hissed, unsure why he was keeping his voice down since they were the only people in the house. "What the hell are you _doing_?"

Body language and tone of voice translated where words did not. Maigret looked surprised, but dismounted all the same.

"What is wrong?"

"_Wrong_?" Dee leapt to his feet, fingers fumbling to fasten his belt. "You kissed me!"

He was stunned by the insouciant shrug that was Maigret's reply. "You know I am gay."

"But I'm not!" he replied angrily, his hand hastily wiping the moisture from his lips. "_Jesus_…"

"Je suis desolé, uh, I'm sorry?" Maigret said, but didn't sound like he really meant it. It was fairly obvious that he couldn't see what the problem was.

Dee shook his head, more in disbelief than in rejection of the apology. "I gotta go." He scrubbed a hand through his hair realising that it was no longer neatly tied back after Maigret's enthusiastic attentions. "I really gotta go…"

He was out the front door and jogging down the steps before the other man could formulate a protest. He didn't look back to see if Maigret was watching him out of the window, but as he hurried back to the orphanage he didn't have any trouble picturing the young man's face. His mind then turned to James Summers – did he know what his lover was doing when his back was turned? The businessman would surely be devastated.

What perturbed him most though – more than any breakdown in monogamy that he'd witnessed or been an accessory to – was the unshakable feeling that, up until the point where his conscience had kicked in, he'd been enjoying himself a whole lot more than he'd ever thought he could in that bizarre and unexpected situation.

TBC…


	3. Do the Right Thing

**Author's note – Thanks for the feedback, guys. Things should start to heat up after this chapter! Swordy **

**Young Dogs **

Chapter 3 – Do the Right Thing

It was a full week before Penguin came to his room and told him that James Summers was on the telephone for him. The name caused his heart to flip-flop and he could only pray that his reaction hadn't spilled into his expression. Had Maigret said anything to him? He doubted it. In which case, James would be calling, as usual, to invite him over on his lover's behalf. He didn't want to go – hell, Maigret probably only wanted to see him to tell him to keep silent about what had happened.

"I'm kinda busy," he said to the nun as she stood perched on the ladder, her head poking through the attic opening. It was true – his textbooks had formed an alternative bed covering he had so many of them out.

"I'll tell him to call you back," she replied with a proud smile, before disappearing to pass on the message.

"Preferably never," he muttered to himself, suddenly feeling like further study was a waste of time. He dropped his pen onto the books, sat back and sighed heavily. What the hell had happened that night? At what point had he given Maigret the idea that he was interested in him like _that_? The last thing he wanted to do was speak to James. If Maigret had said anything, there was the possibility that James might blame _him_. The thought incensed him. Of course if Maigret hadn't said anything, he still possessed the knowledge that the young man didn't believe in fidelity.

For all his errant ways, Dee had a strong opinion about truthfulness. Jess' lack of honesty had hurt him deeply. He'd loved the other man, trusted him, respected him. To find out Jess was guilty of aiding and abetting criminals when he'd gone to him for his help was devastating. He'd barely had time to express his fury at his guardian when his anger had turned to grief. Jess would never see the man he would become – a man he was instrumental in making through his own mistakes.

Distracted from his studies, he decided to go and get a drink. The corridors were quiet, the nuns insisting on lowered voices at that time of evening when all the younger children were asleep. Dee padded through to the kitchen, finding only Penguin in attendance wiping down the surfaces at the end of another long day feeding the orphanage's residents. She smiled when she saw him, before giving him a suspicious look.

"I've counted the number of cookies in that jar, Dee Latener," she said with mock seriousness. Only the older children were allowed into the kitchen and periodically she felt it necessary to reassert her authority and remind them it was a privilege that they should not abuse.

"It's okay, I'm just here for a drink," he replied with a smile. "And I told you, it was Tommy."

"I believe you although thousands wouldn't," she said, giving her stock reply.

He laughed, thanking her when she handed him a carton of juice out of the refrigerator. "Thank God I've got you, Mother."

"And so you should. You're a very lucky boy."

He watched her bustling about the kitchen, knowing it was indeed true. She was an incredible woman and he knew he'd be honoured to have known her until the day he died. It never ceased to amaze him that she held him in equally high esteem.

"Mother, can I ask your advice about something?"

She studied him for a moment, gnarled hands wringing out the cloth she had been using before she smiled and nodded. "You know you can, Dee."

"Okay." He swished the juice around in the glass, watching it settle as he collected his thoughts. "If you knew something about someone which would hurt someone else – a bad something," he clarified, "would you tell the person it hurt?"

Her face crinkled, not sure she followed his vague description of the problem. "Okay… if you were the person who would be hurt, would _you _want to know?"

He didn't need to think about it. "Definitely."

"Why? What difference would it make to you?"

He loved the irony of a nun playing devil's advocate. "Because… I'd know that that person was trying to make a fool of me."

She chuckled softly. "Ah, so it's love related?"

He masked his sudden blush by looking down, his unruly hair falling about his face. "What if that person doesn't want to hear it?"

"Then so be it. At least you'll have the peace of knowing that you did what was right in your heart."

Penguin. She gave her valuable wisdom so freely and he loved her deeply for it.

"Okay." He nodded resolutely before draining the rest of the juice and taking the empty glass over to the sink. "Thanks for the advice. G'night, Mother."

She gave him an affectionate smile as he approached her, bending his already six foot frame to kiss her gently on the cheek. She watched him go, secure in her conviction that he had a good heart and would always do the right thing.

And he did. Before the impetus left him, he called James Summers on the pretence of wanting to return his earlier call. The man seemed pleased to hear from him and Dee felt a knot of guilt forming as he asked if could come over to talk… without Maigret present. James seemed surprised, but didn't ask why nor did he refuse the request. The call ended and Dee went to bed, his mind considering how to introduce the unpleasant reality that the man's younger lover had no intention of being faithful.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Please, come on in."

Dee smiled nervously as he crossed the threshold into the upmarket property. He'd grown more comfortable coming to the house as his visits had become more frequent, but now he was right back to square one. He was out of place and out of his depth.

"You said you wanted to speak to me."

"Is Maigret here?" Dee asked, his eyes shifting automatically to the door.

"No. You said you didn't want him to be here when you came round."

"Is he due back?" Dee persisted, not satisfied with the first answer.

"No, not for several hours," James replied, his brow wrinkled in confusion. "Will you tell me what this is about, Dee?"

Dee hesitated, his hands wringing in a desperate attempt to distract him from the strong nicotine craving he'd suddenly developed. Never mind the fact that barely five minutes had passed since he'd crushed his last cigarette under his boot moments before he'd climbed the steps and rung the doorbell.

"I want to tell you something about Maigret, but it's kinda tough, you know?" He studied the grey haired businessman through long, dark bangs. "I don't exactly like being the bearer of bad news."

James understandably looked worried as he came to sit opposite Dee. "Well I don't believe in shooting the messenger if that helps."

It didn't, but he was already resolved to finish what he'd started. "I came over about a week ago, when you were in London. Maigret invited me over to watch a movie." Dee paused at the recollection of what had swiftly followed.

"We had a few beers, I think I fell asleep and when I woke up, Maigret was, well… touching me. Then he kissed me. I asked him what the hell he was doing and he said he was sorry, but, well, I don't think he meant it. I'm really sorry." His last words rushed out in an embarrassed jumble. "He's got totally the wrong idea about me, but I guess that's not the issue. I just wanted you to know that he's not faithful to you and I don't agree with people cheating on their partners."

He stopped, realising that James hadn't yet responded to his revelations with either shock, anger or denial. He watched as the older man sighed heavily and he couldn't help but feel bad for him. He'd probably received countless comments both subtle and not so subtle about entering into a relationship with a much younger man and this would only give his detractors licence to say they were right.

"Dee…" James met his gaze, his expression unreadable. "Maigret is a young man whom I care for a great deal. But I'm also a realist. He has… needs that I cannot hope to satisfy and to that end, I have allowed and to a certain extent encouraged him to seek and fulfil those needs elsewhere. If he has approached you… then you could say he has done so with my blessing. I appreciate your concern for my welfare, Dee. Mother Maria has always held you in high esteem and I understand why. You're a decent young man and I'm sorry to have caused you any trouble."

A response rose and then fell away in his throat. Suddenly it was clear why Maigret had been so calm that night. Eventually he spoke. "So is that why Maigret wanted me to start coming around?"

James hesitated a moment before nodding, reluctant to evoke the young man's ire. "He was attracted to you the first time he saw you, when you were here with your friends. He told me of his desires…"

"So you decided to help him get me?" Dee countered angrily, thinking of all the occasions James had bankrolled their activities together.

"That's not how it was, not once Maigret got to know you. He enjoyed your company, Dee and I was telling the truth when I said he didn't know many people his own age. He's saddened to have upset you. He wants to make things right."

Dee shook his head in disbelief, trying to sort out his feelings before he replied. "I dunno… I mean, I've nothing against him being gay or anything, but I don't know if I'm comfortable with us still hanging out if he's got an ulterior motive."

James responded with a melancholy smile. "Then that's your decision to make, Dee and both Maigret and I will respect whatever you decide."

There was nothing more to say and, sensing this, Dee said he had to go. James showed him to the door, agreeing not to mention the visit to his younger lover. In turn, Dee promised that he would call when he'd had time to think about what he would do.

As he walked away from the house, Dee had already made his mind up not to continue the brief and unconventional friendship. He didn't need anymore friends – the boys he had known all his life were all he needed. Hell, it wasn't like he could have deep and meaningfuls with Maigret – they barely spoke the same language and all their conversations put together probably only totalled a few hundred words. He would call James in a couple of days, tell him his decision and life could go back to the way it was before Penguin's punishment had introduced him to the businessman and his younger lover.

He was still resolute several days later. His studies were keeping him busy and with any free time he had taken up by chores or hanging out with his friends, he almost forgot about Maigret. It took a late night movie containing a little male on male action for Dee to become uncomfortably aware of the situation again, especially in the face of his friends' heavy condemnation of the acts they were witnessing.

"Oh jeez, would you look at that?" Barry complained, his face contorted in disgust.

Tommy already had his hands over his eyes. "You're not supposed to be doing that with a _dude_, dude!"

With the other two preoccupied with their protestations, Dee found he was able to observe the movie without scrutiny. The simulated intimacy was causing a reaction he had not anticipated and he realised that his discomfort was more about his friends being present while that happened than the reaction itself.

His heart rate quickened, but he barely noticed, his mind more distracted by the unquestionable appearance of an erection in his pants. He shifted uncomfortably, willing the hardness to fade by sending his thoughts into a downward spiral of the mundane. Church. Penguin's chores. The nine times table. With painful slowness he became free of the affliction and to compound his relief Barry changed the channel and nothing more was said.

He wasn't quite done with the situation yet however. In his own bed later that same night it was safe to revisit the memories of what he had viewed. He hadn't been repulsed as his friends had. He was tempted to chalk that up to his being more mature than them, but somehow that didn't quite cut it. After all, it was one thing being tolerant and matter-of-fact about two men dancing the horizontal tango, but it was quite another thing to actively enjoy it.

Unconsciously his hand had gone to his cock. He could see the two men now, and his mind was surprised at itself for retaining such amazing detail of the encounter, as if he'd known that he'd want to review it later. With their faces and bodies in mind, he began to stroke himself and before long he had gone from witnessing the fantasy to being an active participant. It was him receiving the kisses and touches; him that cried out when their naked bodies ground against each other. With a little imagination he visualised another's hand instead of his own, bringing him to climax. It amazed him how aroused he was and how quickly he arrived at orgasm.

As he lay in his bed sweaty, sticky and panting he marvelled at the strength of the orgasm. He liked to think he'd had enough sex to know what he did and didn't like, but even encounters that had ticked all his boxes had never given him such intense pleasure. As the sensations started to fade, his body instantly began to crave more, and crucially, to crave better. Better, however, could surely only be achieved by trying it for real.

He knew what he had to do.

TBC…


	4. To the Great Unknown

**Author's note – Thanks for all the feedback, guys and thanks to Blue as usual. I'm glad an inexperienced Dee is making an interesting read – it's certainly proving interesting to write! **

**N.B. Small parts of this chapter have been edited to meet this site's requirements. For the uncut versions, go to aff or mediaminer. Much love - Swordy**

**Young Dogs**

Chapter 4 – To the Great Unknown

It took a full week before Dee worked up the courage to arrange to see Maigret again. James sounded relieved when he took the call. With the lapse in communication, particularly as the ball had been left firmly in Dee's court, James had assumed that the teenager had decided to end the friendship that had been forged under false pretences.

"I'll tell Maigret that you'll be over tomorrow," he'd said after expressing his gratitude towards Dee for being so forgiving. "I'm sure he'll be glad of the company as I have to go away on business this evening."

"Oh." This was good, but bad. The pit of Dee's stomach told him the inevitable would happen if he and Maigret were alone. He suddenly realised that 'oh' was not an adequate response and added: "Well okay. I'll come over around eight."

Penguin didn't give him the opportunity to regret making the call the following day. From the moment his eyes opened, he was kept busy with a seemingly endless list of tasks, leading him to wonder if he was being punished for a misdemeanour that had slipped his mind. He hadn't of course, and his suspicions were laid to rest when Penguin pushed a ten dollar bill into his hand and insisted that it stayed there. He was almost out of the door when she called after him.

"Did you ever solve the problem you were telling me about?" she asked, smoothing the front of her habit.

The timing of her question caused the answer to choke in his throat. He thought of Maigret, his cocky self-assured smile and the pleasures of the flesh that he would undoubtedly offer and his face flushed suddenly. He hid his embarrassment behind his shaggy black hair, despite knowing only too well that Penguin didn't need to see him to realise that he'd rather not give an answer. A brief glance in her direction caught the wise old woman's smile.

"I'll take it that's a yes," she said. "Now get out of here and have some fun."

Fun. He tried to keep that word in his head as he walked through the darkening streets towards his destination, but he knew his heart was pounding more than it should. He lit a cigarette in the hope that the nicotine would calm his jangled nerves. He knew he could turn around and go home, but his feet took him on, leading him to the conclusion that he would regret going back more than he would going forward.

He hesitated again briefly when he reached the front door, but Maigret had already seen his approach and was crossing the hallway to let him in.

"Dee."

Even the way his name was spoken seemed to hold some hidden agenda. Deep brown eyes carried the hint of a smirk and for a moment Dee felt the urge to smack that handsome face. His own eyes were drawn to the lithe body encased in a thin t-shirt that stopped several inches shy of the waistband of his faded jeans. The hint of flesh was achingly tempting and Dee found himself stepping across the threshold, his gaze fixed on the hips as he followed Maigret through into the living room.

"I'm glad you came."

Dee nodded dumbly. He suddenly felt self-conscious and overwhelmed by an awkwardness that was unfamiliar to him. He liked to think he knew where he stood in the tangled dance of courtship. He felt confident around the fairer sex - he knew what buttons to push. But this was new territory – Maigret's territory – and he was fearful that once he'd stepped into it, he'd never get away.

He gladly accepted the beer that Maigret offered him and for a while they sat in front of the television as they had done many times before, conversation limited by the language barrier and divided attention. Dee however had no interest in what was on the screen. His thoughts were firmly on the body next to him on the couch, long legs draped casually over the arm. His senses felt overwhelmed every time he stole a glance at his companion: his breathing seemed more audible, details more noticeable. He observed how Maigret would purse his lips and frown ever so slightly when he didn't understand something of the onscreen dialogue; how he would periodically flick the hair away from his eyes each time he raised the beer bottle to his mouth. He eventually caught Dee looking.

"Is something wrong, Dee?"

He was glad of the dimmed lighting that hid the worst of his blush. "No," he snapped back, suddenly pretending to be really interested in the movie. So he'd caught him looking once? That hardly meant anything.

"You have been watching me all night, no?"

_Damn_. The last grain of confidence slipped away and he felt his determination to play it cool unravelling before him. "You kissed me," he blurted out without warning. "Why?"

Maigret looked surprised and then amused. "You are still worried about that?"

He gripped his beer bottle tighter. On the screen, Robert DeNiro was practising his _you talkin' to me_ speech in the mirror. "You didn't answer my question. Why?"

Maigret shrugged. "You are handsome, no?"

It wasn't getting to the nitty gritty of what he really wanted to know. "So you go around kissing any handsome guy you see?"

"No…"

"So what made you think I'd want you to kiss me?"

Maigret frowned, the rapidly spoken question spilling out so quickly that he wasn't sure he had understood it. He couldn't answer quickly enough for Dee, whose mouth had gone into a sprint before his brain had even had a chance to put on its sneakers.

"You think I'm gay don't you? Is it the way I act? Something I've said? _What made you think I'm gay?_" He'd all but shouted the last part as he squeezed his beer bottle so tightly it was a miracle it didn't break.

Unable to answer, given that he hadn't fully understood the reason for this unprovoked anger, Maigret stared at him blankly. "I'm sorry?" he said eventually, feeling that he had to at least say something.

"Oh jeez," Dee muttered, his head dropping into his hands. "My head's completely fucked up and you're sorry."

There was a prolonged moment of silence between them. Eventually Dee broke it.

"Since that night, I can't stop thinking about it. It's here" – he gestured to his head – "playing over and over. I hated you because I realised that I didn't hate what happened like I thought I would."

He studied his companion's face and realised that the language barrier was hindering his confession. He stopped, sighed, and started again.

"Kissing you wasn't bad. In fact… I think I liked it."

This Maigret seemed to understand. "You want to do it again?"

Dee hesitated, then nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yeah. I wanna know if it was just a fluke or something." He studied Maigret's return to confusion. "Never mind."

Sensing implicit permission, Maigret placed his beer bottle on the floor and shuffled along the couch to close the gap between them. With his heart drumming a sharp staccato, Dee closed his eyes and waited, knowing the meeting of lips was just seconds away.

The first touch was so gentle he wasn't sure whether their lips were actually touching or whether he was just feeling Maigret's breath as he drew closer. Soon, as the kiss grew more insistent, he became a more active participant, realising that it was no different than kissing a girl. Almost instantaneously he could feel a stirring down below, just like the time he'd observed the two men kissing in the movie he'd watched with his friends. Maigret's arms looped around his neck when he realised that Dee did not want him to stop, pulling their bodies closer until they were sharing the same heat. He groaned deeply at the pressure on his straining erection, the sound muffled by tongues at work. When air was required, they pulled apart, but Dee acknowledged his reluctance.

Maigret offered him a lopsided smile. "Good?"

His embarrassment played second fiddle to his hunger for more. He nodded.

"You want more?"

"Like what?" Dee asked, feeling both awkward and curious at the same time.

Maigret, either too impatient or lacking the vocabulary to explain, reached for the bulge straining furiously in the other youth's jeans and began to stroke it firmly. Dee groaned and despite not knowing exactly what he was giving Maigret permission to do, hurriedly unbuttoned his fly.

For several long moments after Maigret had finished he kept his eyes tightly closed. He couldn't confirm that a man had just done that to him. Better to tell himself that a woman was responsible.

"Are you okay, Dee?"

The voice was annoyingly masculine. Pretence and self-denial was not an option.

"Uh, yeah," he replied, feeling awkward. "I uh, gotta go."

His embarrassment was plain and Maigret wasn't about to draw Dee's discomfort out for his own amusement. He sat back as Dee stood and hurriedly re-dressed but before he could leave, Maigret grabbed his hand.

"If you enjoyed this…" he paused, considering his words, "I can teach you."

Like the act that had just taken place, Dee found the offer both appalling and electric. He studied Maigret in all his beauty and knew he would not pass up the chance to kiss that face again.

"I'll see you," he muttered, neither acquiescing to nor rejecting Maigret's offer. He let himself out and hurried away, wondering if he'd ever leave this house feeling like the confident, self-assured Dee of old.

He lay awake a long while after he returned to the orphanage and crawled into bed. Memories of the evening darted before his eyes, sometimes welcome but mostly not. He had slipped in through a back door and hurried up to his room, resolute that he did not want to risk running into Penguin, whom he was certain never slept. The old woman could see straight into his soul and he knew that if she so much as clapped eyes on him now, she would know that something had happened that had shaken him completely. She would know that everything he thought he was had been smashed into pieces and was being put back together in some new haphazard pattern. How could he face her when couldn't even look at himself in the mirror?

But despite his recriminations, the truth was inescapable. He had consented to intimacy and, yes, he had enjoyed it. He didn't need Penguin to remind him 'what's done is done' – of greater concern to him now was that he wanted to do it again.

He now realised that it had been naïve of him to think that this would be a one-shot deal. He'd placed all his chips on the fact that once his curiosity had been satisfied it would be back to business as usual, but now he couldn't honestly say that would be the case. Maigret had made it clear that he would like them to continue on this new course and he found his own refusal to discount this as very telling. No strings sex, allowing him to explore his new-found desires. Sounded simple, because after all, it was _just_ sex. It wasn't like he was ever going to fall in love with a man, was it?

TBC…


End file.
